Dream
by QueenStrata
Summary: In real life, dreams don't always come true....


A/N: This ficcie came from nowhere, really. I'd finished reading the fourth book (for the third time), and my mind seemed to settle on something slashy for some reason…. (Gee, I wonder.) And then I was reading through a few songs whose lyrics I'd printed out, and this one song, _Easy Street_ by Soul Asylum had this one line that made me want to make Draco say it to Harry. That line is "Who do you turn to when the ones you always turn to go and turn on you." Um… yeah. So he says that. And… this one is oddly serious. And from Harry's POV. Oh, yeah, and it's set somewhere during the fourth book before the First Task, and most likely before he got to talk to Sirius' head in the fire. I'm not sure. ^^; Anyway, I'd better let you read.

Warnings: slash (wait, is that a real warning?), bad language, and angsty stuff  oh, and the dungeons look kinda weird. I've no idea where the idea came from, either, it just sorta happened.

Disclaimer: Don't own them and all that other stuff I'm sure you've heard a million times by now.

_Dream_

I walk through the corridors, shuffling my feet in an abnormally loud manner, especially considering that my Invisibility Cloak was left in my trunk, folded neatly and rather uselessly at the bottom. I know I should be wearing it, but the memories are so hard to bear….

So I walk loudly and uncovered, not even really caring that Filch could catch me. What would it matter, really? All that'd happen is me getting a detention, and that really can't be any worse than what I'll be facing eventually.

Then again, there's also the chance I'd get caught by Snape. Maybe walking through the _Slytherin_ corridors wasn't really the best idea I could have come up with. Even if they _do_ have a rather abnormal beauty to them.

Now, _that_ must be an odd thought. After all, the dungeons of a castle aren't usually the most beautiful of places around. But, at this time of night, the torches go out, and it's the walls themselves that seem to light up, glowing a pale green. Eerie, but beautiful nonetheless. And sometimes, there are even silver patterns on the walls made of hundreds of dots that form a perfect picture.

And even now, another of those pictures appear. This is the simplest one I've seen yet. All it is is a closed door, complete with a doorknob. It looks almost real, and I wonder if there's a chance that this could be an actual door to a room I'd never seen. Idly, I reach out my hand and make as if to grab the doorknob. To my surprise, it actually works.

For a moment, I stand in the doorway, avidly staring into the room, too surprised to do anything else. But then I step inside, and I'm surprised to see the walls light up in the same pale green color as the walls of the hallway to see a cozy room, full of bookshelves and a couple of chairs surrounding a small round table. On the opposite wall are two more of the silver doors. Curious, I walk over to one and open it, and am greeted with the sight of a huge silver bathtub surrounded by a bunch of taps. Not too interested, I quickly leave that room and go to the other door, this time being greeted with a king-sized bed with black hangings on it. I leave that room, but this time when I look towards the door I first came in, I see one of the last people I'd ever want to find me in the Slytherin part of the castle: Draco Malfoy.

"Potter, what in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?" he asks, a sneer on his face and scorn in his voice as he steps inside, closing the door behind him.

I find myself lacking any excuse to be here, and decide to keep my mouth shut instead.

"Wait, let me guess," he continues, heedless of my silence, "you're so sad and distraught over Weasel being mad at you that you decided you'd sulk your way through the halls, making as much noise as possible so you're _sure_ to be caught, right?"

I don't reply, and he chuckles merrily.

"Of course I'm right. There's no reason I shouldn't be. You Gryffindors are all the same, your emotions show through so easily. Of course, none of you can actually read into someone else's emotions. You lot are much to dense for that."

And again, I say nothing. What is there to say? I already know he's right. And besides, I left my wand in the dorm. Pissing him off would definitely _not_ be a good idea right now.

"Potter, what is _wrong_ with you? Why don't you say something, or pull out your wand?"

I shrug, and his smirk widens.

"Aw, is the big, bad Champion afraid he'll cry if he opens his mouth? Has he finally realized that he'd never win a duel against me? Or," and here he pauses to laugh, "has the great Harry Potter forgotten his wand?"

I still say nothing.

"You forgot it," he says, and his smirk is replaced with a disgusted sneer. "Pathetic." He stares at me silently for a moment. "You _do_ realize, Potter, that I could do whatever I wanted to you right now? No one would know. I could _kill_ you, and all anyone would have is suspicions. They'd probably check everyone's wand, of course. All I'd have to do is use another spell…." He pauses again, probably wondering what he should do to me. "Anything I want," he mutters. "And your little Weasel friend wouldn't even care!" he laughs. Then he is suddenly walking towards me, and I back up into the room I'd just left.

Suddenly, my legs hit the side of the bed, and I fall backwards onto it. Before I can even move, Malfoy is bent over me, legs positioned on either side of my body, hands pressing mine into the mattress over my head in a surprisingly strong grip that makes me unable to move my hands.

"Malfoy, _what_ are you doing?" I growl out, attempting to move. It doesn't get me very far and Malfoy's grip merely tightens. He moves his face closer to mine so that we're barely an inch apart, and I'm forced to stare into his silver eyes that almost appear to flow like some kind of molten metal. Like mercury. …Eerie, but beautiful nonetheless.

"The entire school has turned against you, Potter," he says, ignoring my question. "Not a single person would care if you were found dead down here. They'd be happy, especially the Hufflepuffs. But I won't kill you. I don't want _Diggory_ to win."

"But… those badges…."

"What about them? I don't want a _Hufflepuff_ victory. That would just be shameful. I hate them even more than I hate Gryffindors. I'd much rather have _you_ win. Not that anyone else can know that. Besides, the Slytherins would kill me if I rooted for you." He laughs again. "The whole bloody _school_ would." He pauses. "They're all against you. Except Granger. And me. So, Potter, who do you turn to when the ones you always turn to go and turn on you?"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Malfoy rolls his eyes.

"You can't talk to Granger about anything that isn't logical. So you have no one to talk to."

Actually, I do, but _he_ certainly can't know about Sirius.

His lips are suddenly next to my ear, and he whispers, "I believe you, Potter. I know you wouldn't put your name in the Goblet. You're a bit slow, but not completely stupid. Even you know you wouldn't be able to beat such older people. You have courage, but you wouldn't needlessly put yourself in danger. That's what I like about you."

"_Like?_" I ask incredulously.

"Mm-hmm," he replies before his lips are suddenly on my neck. I gasp, startled. He kisses his way down the side of my neck, and I force myself to hold back a pleased moan. He stops to say, "You taste better than I thought you would."

"Taste better than you thought?" I somehow manage to gasp out. "How—" I begin to ask before cutting myself off with a moan as he attacks my neck again.

"Enjoying yourself, Harry?" he purrs out against my throat. I reply with another moan, leaning my head back slightly to offer more of my neck to him. He takes up the offer, making his way around the rest of my neck slowly, and I know he's enjoying the moans I can no longer hold back.

I know I shouldn't be enjoying this, but I can't help it. It feels so good…. But, this _is_ Draco Malfoy. My rival. My extremely talented rival, in more ways than one. At least I'm still better at Quidditch.

Suddenly, I feel his lips on mine, painfully gentle. It's almost as if he doesn't want to hurt me. Though why he'd care, I'm not too sure. Right now, _I_ wouldn't care.

But what would everyone think if they knew what we're doing? They'd probably hang us both. And I'd never get another chance for Ron to be my friend again.

Ron…. Fuck Ron. What do I care what _he_ thinks? Hell, what do I care what everyone else thinks? I want this, so I'm going to have it. …Er, him.

I feel Malfoy begin to move away. I must've been thinking long enough to make him believe I don't want this. But I do.

Feeling almost desperate as his lips leave mine, I move the small distance now between us to catch his lips. It's his turn to gasp, and I take advantage of his open mouth to bring my tongue into the picture, memorizing the contours of his mouth.

After the moment of him in shock passes, he tentatively responds, fingers entwining with mine where he still has them pushed into the mattress.

When we force ourselves apart a few minutes later, both of us are breathing heavily.

"Wow," is all he can think of to say. I nod in return.

We stare into each other's eyes as we catch our breath before he suddenly rolls off me.

"My legs hurt," he says, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

"Funny," I reply as I pull myself up to sit next to him, "mine don't. But my shoulders and back sure do."

"Hn," he replies before leaning against me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I wrap an arm around his waist, and lean back on the other.

Without any warning, his lips are suddenly back on my neck. I tighten my grip on his waist to keep back another moan and force myself to say, "Would you _stop_ that already?"

He moves away just long enough to barely matter, "Taste good," before he returns to his self-appointed task.

"I'll have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow if you don't stop soon," I grumble out.

"Already do," he mumbles.

"Draco!" I say. He pays no attention to me.

Sighing, I let go of his waist, and use both of my hands to pull his apart and push him away from me. He looks up at me, pouting. With a roll of my eyes, I somehow manage to drag him up onto the bed until his head is above the pillow at the top, while he protests heavily. When I finally have him in the position I want him in, I slam down hard with my hands on either side of his head, wincing.

"Didn't I tell you to stop?" I ask.

"Maybe," he replies slowly with a sly grin before turning serious. "Why'd you wince?"

I blink and say, "Huh?"

"You winced. Why?"

"Er… because my shoulders hurt?"

"Maybe you need a massage."

"A _massage_? And just where would I get one of them?"

"I could give you one."

I stare at him.

"_What?_" he asks.

"…Are you any good?"

"Why would I offer to give you one if I wasn't?"

I pause to think.

"Good point," I say and roll off him, somehow ending up sitting. Draco rolls his eyes.

"You can start by taking off your shirt," he says as he pulls himself up.

"Wha—You just want to see me without a shirt on," I return playfully.

"Nah, that's just an added bonus."

Grinning, I pull off my shirt, stretching my aching arms out to their fullest extent, and feeling Draco's eyes watching me hungrily as I do so.

"And lay on your stomach. Just don't complain about how vulnerable of a position that puts you in."

"But that takes all the fun out of life," I pout before doing as he said.

Draco snorts, but wastes no time in giving me my massage, his obviously talented hands attempting to relax the muscles of my shoulders. Still, I am tense for a few moments, unused to the feeling of his hands pushing into my skin, but then I allow myself to relax fully, completely letting my guard down and closing my eyes contently. I know this gives him the perfect opportunity to pull out his wand and kill me, but it feels too good for me to stay so tense.

Besides, it also gives me a chance to think. Mostly about what the hell I'm doing. This entire night defies all logic and common sense. No cloak, no wand, in the Slytherin corridors, and Draco Malfoy is giving me a massage. What's happening to me that I can let my guard down like this? Having only Hermione and Sirius to talk to isn't really so depressing, is it?

Or, shudder at the thought, am I about to _forgive_ Malfoy and possibly even fall in _love_ with him?

…No. This is a one-time thing. After tonight, I'm never letting my guard down again. …Even if he _does_ give a damn good message….

Draco's hands suddenly leave my back, effectively cutting my thought's short.

"How do you feel now?" he asks softly.

"Good. Now I'm going to sleep," I mutter back tiredly.

"You can't do that! If you don't make it back before those people you share your room with before they get up, they'll get suspicious!"

"They'll be suspicious even if I'm fast asleep. They all hate me."

"No they don't," he replies soothingly, running a single hand through my hair and making me shiver. "They're just jealous. Because they don't know any better. Anyway, if _I_ don't hate you, _they_ certainly can't."

I sigh. "I guess…."

Draco sighs too, and rolls me over onto my back. For such a delicately built person, he sure has a lot of strength. He stares down at me, hands and legs on either side of my body, and I pull myself up until we're barely an inch apart. After a minute, he talks.

"You're never going to want to see me again after this, will you? We'll leave this room and go our separate ways, even after all that's happened tonight, won't we? We'll have to try and forget this night…." His eyes practically beg me to say he's wrong. But he's right, so I say nothing.

"I thought so," he mutters softly before moving away from me to sit on the edge of the bed with his head down.

"Draco…?" I try softly after a minute of doing nothing but staring at him.

"Get out, Potter," he returns, cold as ice.

"Wha—"

"I said, get out!" he snaps. "I was a fool to think you'd follow through with this. I mean, if you had, the Weasel would never even consider being your friend again! And it wouldn't look good for your media image, would it? The Boy-Who-Lived gay and dating a Malfoy. What would the world think?" He pauses to take a deep breath and slowly lets it out in a sigh. "If you won't follow through, leave."

There is a tense silence for a few minutes. Then—

"Do you know where I put my shirt?" I ask. He throws it at me, and I quickly pull it on. I get off the bed and walk over to the door as fast as I can, desperate to get out of there.

But I pause after I pull it open, and turn to look at the silver-haired being I was so close to having forever.

"Draco," I try again.

"What?" he asks bitterly, sounding so much like he's about to cry that I'm sorely tempted to go back to him and comfort him. But I don't.

"I'm sorry," is my simple reply.

There's a short, intense pause.

"Fuck you."

"If only," I mutter, nearly silent, as I leave the room, forever closing the door behind me.

A/N: And there we are, a nice little angsty one-shot from me. I'm actually thinking of writing a sequel to this. If enough people ask me to, I might. But if you do want me to, just tell me whether you want it happy or sad. I'd be happy to do either, of course, but probably from Draco's POV next time. I'm rather fond of writing Draco POV myself. Um… yeah. On another note, Draco sure seems to like Harry's neck, ne? ::giggles:: Er… Anywhoo, I think I'm done here. I'd better go write more somewhere else. -_-;


End file.
